University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

Scene I.

—Trees and mountains.
Faust.
Thou glorious nature, thou art kin with me!
And passion pales before the boundless calm
Of skies and sleepy groves. This freshn'ing breeze,
It seems to purify the heart within.
And now I am released for a short respite
From that dark yokefellow who drags me down;
Who, like a bat, fastens upon my soul
With hooked and spectral wing, fanning the fire
That raged within my breast for Margaret.
This mandrake passion, let me tear it up,
Although it leave my heart bleeding and racked.

Enter Mephistopheles.
Mephis.
What! vapouring and moralizing here?
Becalmèd in a sudden lull of virtue—
Who can foretell your whim? your nose in air,
Smit with divine remorse, you stalk alone;
Anon, a sinner, rather commonplace,
You pour sweet falsehoods in a maiden's ear,
And so all ends—ah, well, a common ending.

Faust.
Why hast thou followed me? Was it our bond
That you must thrust your company upon me?

Mephis.
Oh, I would gladly leave you;
A surly, thankless, peevish mate, like you,
Is not amusing.
At home your Margaret sits, waiting and watching;
Longing and longing, the poor monkey cries,
“Oh, might I be a dove, that I
Might fly to him, and nestle near!”

Faust.
Thou snake! thou snake!

Mephis.
[Aside]
When I trap thee!

Faust.
I'm true to her, and I am ever near her.
I envy even a blessed shrine
When touched by her sweet lips.

Mephis.
Ah! yes!
I've often envied you those dainty cherries
That you have crushed with such a juicy kiss.

Faust.
Silent! be silent!

Mephis.
Doctor, you make a wry face at the dish,
While your mouth waters all the while to taste it.
Go to your Margaret and dry her tears,
Arrange a visit to her home to-night,
Give her this little phial—an opiate only
To make the dragon sleep—her starched old mother—
(Her brother's at the wars, he can't disturb you,)
Put three drops in her posset, and all's well:
Take it, thou trembler! take it, there!
What were the joy of heaven to her embrace!

[Puts bottle in Faust's pouch.
Faust.
And at what cost?—the ruin of her life.
Shall I, lost soul and the abhorred of God,
Sweep down with me to hell this earthly angel?

Mephis.
Get in, thou moral rake, and dry her tears.

Faust.
Fiend, thou dost warp my reason, whet my passion,
My will and conscience wither at thy sneer.
Mine be the penalty, mine the perdition,
The doom of both be one for ever!

[Exit.
Mephis.
The devil that despairs, of all poor creatures
Is the poorest.
Give me the man who will go on—straightway—
With a strong will—pig-headed, damnable!

[Exit.

Scene 2.

—Nuremberg. Margaret's Garden. Evening.
Margaret at her spinning-wheel.
Mar.
My peace has fled,
My heart's like lead,
I'll never find rest,
Oh! never more.
When I have him not,
The grave's my lot,
The wide world all
Is turned to gall.
The moon was full when we two walked together,
And now it is a crescent—a long month.
It's Ah! the hopes, the starts, the coming steps—
'Tis never he who comes!
My peace has fled,
My heart's like lead,
I'll never find rest,
Oh! never more.

Enter Mephistopheles slyly.
Mephis.
Alone!
[Margaret shudders, continues working, and turns away her face.
What! quite forlorn for love?
Love hath been all too kind to thee at first,
Now you begin to learn love's cruelty.

Mar.
Sir, if I'm free to choose my company,
Leave me, I pray you.

Mephis.
Why, what a thing is prejudice in woman!
That for some blemish, or some trick of nature,
(Say a poor smile, that fails to fascinate,)
Condemns, without a thought, an honest man.
Here have I been upon your service, Margaret,
I whom you hate, and deem your enemy,
Have sought your wandering and gloomy lover,
Touched on your pining solitude with feeling,
And he is coming full of penitence
To kiss your tears away. Kiss hard in turn,
That he may not so soon forget your kiss.

Mar.
I die to see him—'tis my yearning hope
To catch his step—to hear his voice again;
But if he only comes on your persuasion,
Oh, let him never come.

Mephis.
He comes to you because he worships you,
And I will teach you how to keep him, too.
There is one point of danger in his nature:
Avoid all mention of religion to him.
Myself, am an exemplary Christian,
Yet even I don't venture on these subjects.

Mar.
[Aside. Stopping her spinning].
Sooth, this man is an enemy to God,
With every shuddering instinct I can feel it.

Mephis.
But if you disobey my counsels, maiden,
And talk of the redemption, faith, and prayer,
Your happiness will turn to must and blight:
Despair, disgrace, and ruin will o'ertake you,
Then, should you turn for help—

[Mephis sees her cross, his eyes fix on it, and he half rises to move away.
Mar.
[Observing, starts up]
If you are evil, and God's enemy,
Then let this holy symbol drive thee hence.
[She stands up, and lifts cross. He cowers away out of the door, looking devilishly, behind.
He's gone! He's gone! It is some fiend disguised.

Enter Faust.
Faust.
Margaret!

Mar.
My love! my love!
[She rushes with a cry to him.
Why have you starved my heart—so long—so long?
Believe me, one can die of misery.

Faust.
For your own sake, beloved one, not mine,
I have been absent—absent to shield thy fame.

Mar.
Thy answer is so kind, and yet so cold,
'Tis meant to comfort, but if frightens me.
If thou hast tired of me, ah, do not tell me,
For I would still deceive myself awhile
Till I be used to doubt. Now doubt is death!

Faust.
There is a little wail upon thy voice,
Which strives not to upbraid, not to complain,
Which pains me more than passions of reproach.

Mar.
If you are yet unchanged I'll dare to speak
Words that would choke me, if you loved me not.
You say your absence was to shield my fame;
There is a better shield than absence, love.

Faust.
And that?

Mar.
[Hesitatingly]
The name of—wife.

Faust.
Wife—ah! dearest!
Could I but call thee wife!

[Presses her to him.
Mar.
It is dear life to me to know thy mind.
May I implore? I promise not to blame.

Faust.
We are two months upon a rapid, dearest.
Unless the rush of fate or death shall part us—

Mar.
Of fate? Then there is something that may part us
Which is not death. What is it?

Faust.
I am not free—grant me thy loving patience
And perfect trust awhile—a little while.

Mar.
[Terrified]
How long? A week—a month—a year—a life?
Till hope decays to doubt—then mortal surety
Kills me by inches.

Faust.
But trust me, love,
I'll tell thee all;—another time—not now.

[Kisses her.
Mar.
[With an effort].
Thou talk'st of fate. What dost thou mean?
Hast thou no faith in Heaven's helping hand?

Faust.
Hush, hush, my child! Let it be thy gentle woman's part to pray.
I part from thee
For a bold act that may redeem us both.

Enter Mephistopheles unobserved.
Mar.
Part from that man—that demon—part from him.
Before you came he sat there by my side,
I felt like a poor bird before a snake,
But when I lifted up this sacred cross
He shrank away, unmasked, and horrible.
He is a devil, and God's enemy!

Mephis.
[Aside].
Ay, thou shalt cower at the cross,
When I am grinning at thy agony!

Mar.
[Earnestly].
I dreamt he sat with me last night, this friend;
I seemed to play with him a game of chance,
And for some awful stake—I shook in sleep—
Sudden it came to me, 'twas for thy soul.

Faust
[Agitated].
Tell me no more.

Mar.
He won! he won! Oh, part from him!

Faust
[To himself in low voice].
Who knows but thou mayst win that stake?
[Aloud.
Hope all that you desire, and it will hap.

Mar.
I pray so. You must leave me now.

Faust.
And must we ever part?

Mar.
If I were but alone; my mother sleeps so lightly.

Faust.
Nay, there's no fear.

[Shows phial.
Mephis.
[Aside].
Pretty to see young lovers play with crime.

Faust.
Put but three drops of this into her cup at evening meal,
And it will bring a deep, refreshing sleep.

Mar.
'Twould harm her not?

Faust.
If 'twould,
Canst thou believe that I would give it thee?

Mar.
Ah no! [takes phial]
I look upon thy face, and caution's gone.
So much already have I done for thee,
That now there's scarce aught left for me to do.

[Exit. Mephis comes forward.
Mephis.
Is she gone?

Faust.
Is it a portion of thy service
To play spy?

Mephis.
She is so interested, doctor, the sly wench,
To know if you're religious.

Faust.
Mocker! thou couldst never understand
How this deep loving one, full of her faith,
The only shining pledge she has of heaven,
Is agonized to think the one she loves
Can never meet her there.

Mephis.
Ha! Thou supersensual sensualist!
A very milkmaid leads you by the nose.
No matter. Well, to-night.

Faust.
What meanest thou?

Mephis.
Oh, nothing, nothing, only—to-night.

Faust
[Turning full on him].
Let what I have to tell stifle thy sneers:
I mean to take young Margaret for my wife,
To twine her life to mine in holy love.
As for thy service, wait until I need it.

Mephis.
Indeed! So that is your intent?

Faust.
My changeless purpose.
I am resolved to part with her no more.

Mephis.
Then in good time I'm here.
Thou shalt not wed this maid, nor dally with her
After this night.

Faust.
By what pretence canst thou forbid me, fiend?

Mephis.
Thou answer'st me
As if I were some credulous, dull mate.
I am a spirit, and I know thy thought.
You think you may be fenced round by-and-by
With sprinkled holy water, lifted cross—
While you and your pale saint might hold a siege
Against the scapegoat—'gainst the devil here.
Ere that should be I'd tear thee limb from limb,
Thy blood I'd dash upon the wind like rain,
And all the gobbets of thy mangled flesh
I'd scatter to the dogs, that none should say
This carrion once was Faust!
Yon cottage would I snatch up in a whirlwind,
At dead midnight, like pebble in a sling,
And hurl it leagues away, a crumbled mass,
With its crushed quivering tenant under it.
Dost know me now?

Faust.
Fiend, I obey,

Mephis.
When hell's aroused in me, beware!

[Business.